"He told me, with the pale face pressed against my coat, 'Thou seest, sweet master, I would not take pains just at first, and mamma was very grand; she never blessed me for a week, and I never kissed her. I did lessons with her, though, and tried to plague her, and played very sad, very ill, and would hardly read a bar. So mamma took it into her head to say that _you_ had not taught me properly; and I grew very wild, angry,--so hurt at least that I burst out, and ran downstairs, and came no more for lessons five whole days. Then I begged her pardon, and she sent for Herr Hümmel to teach me. I played my very best to Herr Hümmel, master mine!' "'I daresay he did,' thought I, 'the naughty one! the elf!' There he lay back with his pale face, and all the mischief in his starry eyes. "'And Herr Hümmel,' my loveling went on, pursing his lips, 'said he could not teach me to play, but perhaps he could teach me to write. So I wrote for him ever so many pages, and he could not read them, for I wrote so small, so small; and Herr Hümmel has such very weak eyes!' "Oh! how naughty he looked, lying across my knees! "'And then,' he prattled, 'mamma set herself to look for somebody very new and great; and she picked up Monsieur Milans-André, who is a very young master, only nineteen years old; and mamma says he is a great genius. Now, as for me, dear master, I don't know what a great genius is; but if Monsieur André be one, _thou_ art not one, nor I.' "Oh, the haughty one! still prattling on,-- "'I did take pains, and put myself back, that he might show me over again what you, dear master, had taught me, so that I never forget, and could not forget, if I tried; and in a year I told mamma I would never touch the harpsichord again if she did not promise I should come back to you again. She said she couldn't promise, and, master, I never _did_ again touch the harpsichord, but instead, I learned what was better, to play on Monsieur André's grand pianoforte!' "'And how didst thou admire that, eh?' I asked, rather curious about the matter. "'Oh! it is very comfortable; I feel quite clear about it, and have written for it some things. But Monsieur André is to go a tour, so he told mamma yesterday, and this morning before he came I ran away, and I am returned to you, and have brought my tree to keep my birthday with you. And, master mine, I _won't_ go back again!' "Before I could answer him, as I expected, comes a pull at the bell to draw the house down, and up the stairs creaks Rathsherr Seraphael, the father, a mighty good looking and very grand man. He takes a seat, and looks queer and awful. But the little one, quitting me, dances round and round his chair and kisses away that frown. "'Dear and beautiful papa, thou must give me leave to stay I am thine only son!' "'Thou art indeed, and hast never before disobeyed me. Why didst thou run away, my Adonais?'